


A Place You Won’t Remember

by Tabithian



Series: Fortunes Fade [9]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 13:00:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4836311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just another kind of sacrifice, in the end. One more in a long line of them, neverending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Place You Won’t Remember

**Author's Note:**

> yozoraarashi asked for DickTim in my Fortunes Fade AU, so. This is a baby-step for these dorks? :)?  
>  
> 
> Takes place shortly after Bruce comes back to Gotham after being ~lost in time, and a little bit before the events in  
> [Welcome to the Underground](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4470812).

Tim looks up when Dick touches down on the roof behind him.

“Busy night,” Dick says, smile on his face.

“You could say that,” Tim says.

Gotham's been restless as of late. Frantic spate of activity from her small-time criminals keeping all of them constantly on the move in between periods of unsettling quiet like the calm before a storm.

Dick hums, moves to stand next to Tim, and follows his gaze to the building Tim's been watching for the better part of an hour. Jason's in there now, making copies of certain files and planting bugs here and there.

Things he's done time and time again, but for some reason Tim has a bad feeling about this. Has, ever since the case all but fell in his – their – laps.

Tech that shouldn't exist, but did, an unscrupulous company _studying_ it, and all kinds of worrying thefts taking place around Gotham and that had gone unnoticed, unremarked on, for too long thanks to the rash of criminal activity around the city.

Reports of a new criminal, villain, whatever you wanted to call him who had flawless timing to pull off the thefts he had.

Things not adding up the way they should.

“Red Robin?" Dick asks, trying and failing to hide his concern.

“Nightwing's worried about you,” Tim says, sliding a look at Dick, daring him to deny it.

Dick makes a face at Tim like he didn't know which way Tim would lean in this, and waits, resigned, for Jason's response.

It's not long in coming.

“Oh, really.”

Things are...better now, between Jason and Dick, but there are still some sore spots they manage to find with distressing ease. (Tim may be pushing the two of them to deal with it faster than they'd like, but the two of them have let things go on like this long enough as it is.)

“Hey,” Dick says, forcing a note of cheer he doesn't quite hit. “Looks like you two have been keeping busy.”

It's true that Jason and Tim patrol together more often than not these days, Jason poking his nose into Tim's business, helping him with cases, and vice versa. Holdover from their time spent searching for Bruce, and.

There's. 

It's not quite jealousy, really in Dick's voice, his eyes. More like regret, Dick not quite knowing how to mend things between Jason and himself now that Bruce is back, along with Jason and Tim.

Tim lowers his binoculars and gives Dick a _look_.

Dick makes another face, mouths, _I know_ , at Tim shifting uneasily as the silence builds. 

”Oh my God, how are you so bad at this?”

Tim raises an eyebrow at Dick because really, he's supposed to be better adjusted than that. Maybe not the best out of all of them, that honor goes to Barbara maybe, or Steph. (They were always the smart ones out of all of them, and Alfred. He's in a league of his own in this.)

“B,” Tim says, when Dick looks at him helplessly. “You know the answer to that one.”

Jason laughs, little bit of static kicking up. ”I'm almost done here, anyway."

“Find anything interesting?”

Jason starts to answer, voice light, when there's a flare of light through the windows across the way. -

”Uh-oh.”

Tim's on his feet, hand out to hold Dick back when he moves to the edge of the roof to get to Jason. .

Wonder of wonders, it works. Dick looking down at him, frown on his face.

“Red?”

There's a pause, then, ”Going to need backup, I think, Hood. If you two aren't busy, I mean. No rush or anything.”

“On our way,” Tim answers, moving aside to let Dick go first.

Dick gives him an odd look as he brushes past, but Tim ignores it in favor of grabbing the few pieces of equipment they truly can't afford to leave behind. Things that might tie back to their civilian identities, given someone determined enough.

“Hood - “

“Go,” Tim says, not bothering to look back at Dick. “I'll be right behind you.”

There's a heavy silence, and when Tim looks up, he sees - 

“Right,” Dick says, voice all wrong, as he goes over the side of the building, sound of a grapnel being fired reaching Tim's ears a moment later.

”Hey, so,” Jason breaks in, little bit breathless. "This guy really has a thing for clocks. And like. Time. That ring a bell?”

Tim sighs, brings his foot down on the surveillance gear they borrowed from the Batcave, no time for anything approaching finesse right now.

“Stay out of sight, don't engage,” he snaps, that bad feeling intensifying at Jason's laughter filtering over the comms as he follows Dick.

He can hear Jason swearing, Dick running silent as he makes his way to the floor Jason's on.

”Little bit late for that, Hood,” he says, and, ”Oh, hey, Nightwing's here.”

That should be good news, but a beat later Tim hears Jason yelling at Dick, and Tim forgoes stealth in favor of speed.

He hits the edge of the room, eye going to the figure with the flowing cape hovering over the floor in front of the windows, cackling wildly.

“Christ, really?” Jason says, poking his head around an overturned desk .”Could you please be more cliché?”

Tim sees Nightwing's hand snag in Jason's cape, dragging him back to cover, and focuses his attention on the floating guy. (Villain.)

There are. 

An alarming amount of clocks attached to his person, analog with moving hands, and a few digital ones tucked here and there, ticking down. Small sun dials where his cape attaches to his suit.

“Who - “ is as far as Tim gets before the guy raises his hand, stopwatch in his hand. 

He grins, madness in his eyes that stops Tim short as looks at Tim, and presses down on the button.

Tim almost makes it to cover when a wave of light erupts from the stopwatch, flaring washing over the room and everything in its path and everything burns white.

********

Sound filters back first, echoing, distorted.

“Christ, I think he's dead.”

A pause, sound of someone nearby shifting. 

“Again, I mean.”

There's a choked laugh, the kind from someone who's too damn close to the edge.

“Not funny, Jason.”

Tim groans, tries to open his eyes but someone – Jason? – places his hand over them.

“Whoa, take it slow, Tim. You got the worst of it, you moron.”

Tim gives in because he hurts, bone-deep ache and sharp little pain right behind his eyes, throbbing in the back of his head that makes him wish he'd been wearing his helmet.

“What happened?”

Long, awkward pause, and then - 

“Time travel?” Jason says. “Near as we can figure.”

That.

“Dick?”

Another one of those choked laughs, and Tim grabs Jason's wrist, pulls his hand away from his eyes as he sits up to face Dick.

A mistake really.

Even though the lighting is dim, it hurts, makes Tim hiss, eyes tearing up as he brings a hand up to shield them.

“Dammit,” Jason mutters, dragging Tim against him. “Why are you so stubborn?”

Tim doesn't answer him, not when they all know the reason, and turns his head towards Dick.

He can see the vague outline of him, nearly swallowed up by the shadows.

Dick lifts his head, and he looks.

Tired.

Tired and something else Tim can't put words to, makes his chest ache.

“Jason's not Robin yet.”

********

“Nightwing.”

Tim glances at Jason, crouched at the edge of the roof on Dick's other side, hunched in on himself, something sad, hurting, to the set of his shoulders.

He hasn't said much after Dick's reveal, had disappeared up to the roof of the building they're working out of, Dick following not too long after.

Both of them so stupid, really, but Tim can't bring himself to say so.

Not now.

Dick tears his eyes away from the scene below, and when Tim looks down he catches a little flash of color before it's swallowed by Gotham's shadows.

There are a pair of muggers down there, knocked around and tied up nice and pretty for the police to deal with thanks to vigilante justice. ( _Robin_.)

Tim rests a hand on Dick's shoulder. “Nightwing?”

Dick looks at Tim, everything on his face and - 

Tim ducks his head, nudges Jason with his foot as he walks past.

“Come on, we need to find this guy and find a way to go back to our time.”

Jason had managed to plant a tracker on him somewhere between the time the guy had shown up and they ended up here. The problem is going to be tracking him down without alerting their past selves of their presence, and, admittedly, fixing their tracking scanner.

It's a little bit broken at the moment, fried from whatever had dragged them back through time – technology or magic, Tim can't tell yet.

He's leaning towards technology, however, think their guy is undoubtedly tied to the thefts, their case.

At the moment, though, they're all just guesses, nothing solid to back them up

********

Tim is working on getting the tracking scanner working again, Jason is pretending to sleep in a corner, and Dick is - 

Dick is staring at him.

Something like that, anyway. 

His head is angled towards Tim, but he's not really looking at him. More like looking through him, mind somewhere else. 

For a reason, Tim knows.

They've manage to pin down when they are, with a day or two margin of error.

They're a week away from the night Tim died, and neither Dick or Jason are taking it all that well, considering.

Tim himself, well.

“Hey,” Tim says, looking over at Jason, knowing he's paying attention. “What were you doing around now?”

Tim hadn't really had a chance to check in on Jason, all those years ago. Joker having broken out of Arkham Asylum along with the usual suspects, too busy helping Bruce and Dick bring them back in.

Jason opens his eyes, and _looks_ at Tim.

Tim shrugs, goes back to assessing the damage.

“Getting my ass handed to me,” Jason says, dryly. “The Turner brothers.”

Tim cocks his head, and then laughs, when he remembers who Jason's talking about. 

A trio of brothers, big, mean. Not very smart, but vicious fighters who thought they were big enough threats to be taken seriously by Gotham's criminal element on their own.

“I told you to leave them alone.”

“Right,” Jason says. “Like I ever listen to you?"

A lie, because Jason did. 

_Does._

Tim talks, and Jason listens.

He doesn't always do what Tim tells him, might just go out and do the exact opposite, but he listens.

Tim had told him, back then, to leave the Turner brothers to him, or Batman. That it was their job to deal with people like them, not Jason's. But the Turner brothers were always more than happy to hurt people to make a point, let people know who was in charge, and Jason could never let that stand. 

And back then, Tim had had his hands full making sure Bruce and Dick didn't drive themselves into the ground, no time to spare for problems like the Turner brothers.

Tim sighs, hands stilling.

Jason's younger self is probably talking himself into doing something really stupid right now.

Something that's probably going to end with pain and bruises and if he's really unlucky, a broken bone or two. 

Jason smirks at him, like he knows what Tim's thinking. 

“I ended up at Leslie's clinic,” he says. “Busted ribs and nasty little concussion. Needed some stitches too. Good times.”

Dick twitches, mouth turning down.

“Christ,” Jason mutters. “I wish I could smack little me around a bit, knock some goddamn sense into him.”

Dick inhales sharply, eyes coming back into focus.

They land on Tim first, lips thinning, and go to Jason with a little show of teeth before he pushes up and makes his way out of the room, live wire.

“I think that backfired,” Jason says, after several minutes have gone by.

“Take over here,” Tim says, puts a little bit of snap in his voice.

Jason cocks his head. “You know that's not my area of specialty. I might fuck it up.”

Bullshit, as Jason loves to say.

He knows this equipment as well as Tim or any of the others do, maybe even better. He worked hard to prove himself to Bruce, and knowing how every piece of equipment he used worked was part of that. 

“Christ, fine. Just. Don't kill each other, okay? Bruce would be so pissed, and Alfred wouldn't approve.”

Tim can't really promise they won't, with Dick's current state of mind and Tim's own, like a frayed wire, both of them.

“I'll be sure to remember that,” Tim says, looking Jason in the eye. “Stay here.”

Jason tosses off a mock salute, but the look in his eyes is serious. “Will do, Boss.”

Tim sighs. It was definitely a bad idea to introduce him to Pru and her team.

********

Tim had almost forgotten how much Gotham's changed since he died.

The skyline's changed for one, major landmarks he'd used to orient himself when he was Robin no longer there thanks to one major crisis or another. All ones he'd learned about after the fact, seen the way the weight of the consequences affect the others.

It had taken him longer than he likes to think about to re-acclimate to Gotham, learning her from the ground up. Making mistakes, missteps along the way that cost him more than they had in the past.

And now - 

It's just as, if not more disorienting being in a Gotham he remembers with regret. All the things that could have been and never were.

Has to stop to gauge the distance between buildings, how stable this roof or that fire escape is. If the handhold here will hold his weight or crumble under it.

The way his mind turns against him in this, dredges up memories he'd though lost, long buried.

The way he'd like to take a break under _this_ water tower, shadows hiding him nicely from view while he ate an energy bar, had a drink of water, or coffee, if he could swing it. The way _that_ roof had the best view of the city, and _this one_ is where he used to watch Bruce and Dick from, safe from discovery.

He hates it, a little, being back in a Gotham that always felt like home to him, no matter how filled with danger. The one he lives in now - 

He loves her still, all her sharp edges and dark secrets, but she's not his the way this one used to be.

Where he felt safe, even though he always knew what a lie it had been.

It slows him down, takes him longer to find Dick than he'd like.

He knows there's really only one place Dick could be right now.

And that takes time too, remembering back to this night. 

Run ragged and hiding it the best he could, only Alfred and Barbara noticing. Keeping their silence on the matter because it had been necessary, hadn't it? 

Just one more sacrifice in a long line of them, after all.

********

“Dick.”

Dick's eyes flick to him, linger for a moment before he goes back to watching the waterfront warehouse. Front for one operation or other, Tim doesn't remember now.

He can see movement on a lower roof across the way, quiet, careful, little flash of color when the figure reaches for something at his belt, cape pulling back.

“I forgot how small you were,” Dick says, light, conversational. “Pocket-sized.”

Tim bites back a sigh, takes a seat next to Dick.

Knows he doesn't have to be worried about being noticed when his younger self is so focused on the matter at hand.

“It would be so easy,” Dick says, looking at Tim. “All we have to do - “

“No.”

Dick. 

“Why?” he demands. “You're going to die by the end of the week, and we can stop it!”

Tim laughs, this brittle thing.

“You know why,” he says, and it's.

It's the fact that it's tempting, so damn much. 

To just. 

One little change, a step to the side, and everything could be different. 

He wouldn't have hurt Bruce and Dick, the others, the way he has time and again. Wouldn't have caused them the kind of pain that lingers even now, twists and _hurts_ at unexpected times.

One little change, and - 

And Jason wouldn't be who he is now, or Damian. (God, _Damian_.)

Bruce, Dick. Alfred. Barbara and Steph and Cass, none of them would be the people he knows now, and that thought - 

It scares him, sometimes. The thought of the things that could have been. The kind of person he could have become, given the chance. 

The people the others could have become, in turn.

The victories they've been able to claim, hard-fought and hard-won, and what happens to all of that if they do this? Make one little change? (And where does it stop?)

“Tim.”

Tim sighs, scrubs his hands over his face.

“I'm.” 

He can't say he's happy like this, family broken and slowly mending once more, but.

Jason knows who he is now, is happy for all the problems he has to contend with. Damian is. He's opening up, bit by painful bit. Feeling his way through and always so surprised when his footing remains stable. 

Them, and the others.

Even the patchwork relationship with Dick, fumbles and missteps, gaining ground and losing it just as quickly. 

Coming to something like an understanding, and maybe something more, given time. 

He's not _happy_ , like this, but there's. 

There's a chance he could be, given time.

“I never regretted it,” Tim says, knowing Dick hates it, that Tim can say that so easily, but it's the truth. “You understand that, right? Don't tell me you don't.”

He can feel Dick staring at him, angry and frustrated because he knows this isn't something either of them can do, and it.

It's just another kind of sacrifice, in the end. One more in a long line of them, never ending.

********

“I found our guy,” Jason says, when they go back like everything's fine. “He's lying low a few blocks away, actually.”

Tim gives him a look, and gets a bright smile in return.

“Really.”

“Yeah, imagine that.”

Tim looks at Dick who has a small smile on his face, pale shadow of itself, but.

“You wouldn't happen to have a plan of attack, would you? Or know the layout?”

Jason smiles, beatific. “Well, now that you mention it, I do, actually.”

Dick laughs, this little bark of sound.

“Let's hear it then, little brother.”

Jason goes still, eyes meeting Tim's, and Tim.

“It can't be worse than any of your other plans,” he says, and smiles at Jason's affronted expression.

********

It's all very anticlimactic, really.

The suit, the clocks, they're a gimmick.

Most of the people who pick a theme in Gotham has one, makes them stand out, memorable.

This guy, though.

It's a disguise, a costume he put on in order to blend in with Gotham's level of strange and bizarre so he _wouldn't_ stand out..

Look at the mask, the flashy suit long enough and the person behind it all fades to the background.

He's no criminal mastermind, this guy. Just a disgruntled employee who also happens to be a very smart man looking to make easy money and cause his former employees some trouble.

A slight miscalculation that had thrown them this far back in time. Fried circuitry in his stopwatch that had delayed him from going where he'd originally planned to and conveniently stranding them here.

“Who did you think was going to buy this device from you?” Dick asks, no need to feign the anger on his face, in his voice.

The guy is kneeling in front of Dick, defiant look on his face that's already beginning to crumble. A little longer, and they'll know who his potential buyers are, what kind of trouble they stand to face back in their own time, if it comes to that.

Tim puts a hand on Jason's shoulder, shakes his head.

“He looks like he wants to kill the guy,” Jason points out, but he leans back against the wall beside Tim, willing to follow his lead for now.

Tim flashes Jason a small smile. 

“He does.”

********

Bruce and Damian swoop down on them when they make it back to their time. The ride home had been thankfully less...turbulent, for given 

They're all on their feet, at least.

Bruce takes one look at them, zeroes in on their costumed troublemaker.

“Hey, wow,” Jason says, shooting Tim a look. “I'll fill you guys in on all the fun you missed, no need to bother with those losers.”

Dick huffs, tired smile on his face, shoulders loosening when Jason elbows him.

Tim rolls his eyes and hands the guy over to Jason, Bruce looking between Dick and Tim, clearly concerned. 

“Here,” Tim says, taking the device that got them all into trouble along with the stopwatch, smoking slightly, useless now. “You might want these.”

Bruce looks at him, head tilted just so.

“Jason will tell you everything you need to know.”

Careful wording, and the slight twitch at the corner of Bruce's mouth tells Tim he's perfectly aware of that.

“Understood.”

Bruce looks at Dick, but all he gets is a tired version of Dick's usual smile.

********

Tim waits until the others are gone before he looks at Dick.

Sees the smile drop off his face, exhaustion he wouldn't, couldn't show in front of the others making itself known.

It means something, Tim knows, that Dick lets him see this.

“I do understand,” Dick says, too tired for anything but the truth. “Why you did it, I mean. I understand.”

He doesn't need to tell Tim he would have done the same in his place, that he would have that night, if he'd been able to. 

No hesitation, and that.

It means something too.


End file.
